


Dancing Dahlia

by Hadzy



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: AT LEAST SOLEIL IS HAPPY, Angst, DAHLIA SINCLAIR-WHITE IS MY BABY, F/M, HDIJWHUDHUIWEHD, HUWDGHIUWEGDUGEDGWEUGDYEGYD, Heavy Angst, I might delete this, I think I might be going insane, I went crazy, I-, It's heavy angst, LAUKI GRANDCHILD TRIES TO FIND LAUKI, Lauki... angst and fluff, Mystery, Oh wait, SO, THIRD GENERATION FOR PH, but remember, everyone's the same lmao, first time actually plotting angst, happy late thankgsiving ahaha, help me, how do I explain, i guess enjoy, let me explain myself, let me just..., make this a test trial... and then try to delete it, silently, what did I do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hadzy/pseuds/Hadzy
Summary: A family can be oddly complicated, especially Dahlia's.
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White, William Hawkes/Kym Ladell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. Prologue

> _ "Generally, the significance of dahlia flowers is positive. Perhaps the most common of all is **finding inner strength** , which roots back to the plant’s ability to withstand harsh conditions. More common meanings of dahlias are **remaining graceful** and **standing out from the crowd** since their beauty and elegance is undeniable. That being the case, these flowers make the best gift for someone you admire or perceive as a strong person." _
> 
> _ \- petalrepublic.com _

_ "Dancing Lady Orchid? You seem more of a Dahlia dear."  _

_ \- * - * - * -  _

Her crimson hair whipped wildly in the wind, braids unraveling as she walks down the cold empty streets of the 11th precinct. 

They say her golden eyes pierce the living out of the nearest passerby, pale white skin making her look like a ghost. 

She was unwelcome, and she didn’t know why because Dahlia Sinclair-White does not know who her grandparents are. 

Or to be more specific, she supposed, she did not know her proper heritage. 

She is only given the fact that her family line must have betrayed the people of Ardhalis from the acts of hatred from her daily life. 

They say she looks exactly like her grandmother; Lauren Sinclair-White, and shoo away Dahlia like an insect on a porch. 

Only when Dahlia decides to investigate, she is left with the clues from Helios and Selene as she guides herself through the twisted roots of the tree. 

However, she never expected her life would turn out this way. 

And now, she finally wanted to know why. 

[Dahlia Flower Representation](https://www.petalrepublic.com/dahlia-flowers/)

[Helios ](https://www.theoi.com/Titan/Helios.html#:~:text=HELIOS%20\(Helius\)%20was%20the%20Titan,drawn%20by%20four%20winged%20steeds.)

[Selene](https://www.theoi.com/Titan/Selene.html)


	2. Daffodils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yellow, Red, and Orange smear her vision as she screamed at the top of her lungs. 
> 
> New beginnings? This was all too horrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Death, Graphic Deceptions of Violence, Peer Pressure.

> _“For oft, when on my couch I lie_
> 
> _In vacant or in pensive mood,_
> 
> _They flash upon that inward eye_
> 
> _Which is the bliss of solitude;_
> 
> _And then my heart with pleasure fills,_
> 
> _And dances with the daffodils.”_
> 
> _\- William Wordsworth_

It was a cold winter morning, and Dahlia Sinclair-White came across crushed daffodils on her doorstep planter. 

The yellow petals that were once poised in a shape of a beautiful flower were now crushed, brown mud smearing across each petal- small tears were visible through the cracks of white.

Now, if there was any person in the world in the world who knew not to step on daffodils, it would be anyone; after all, the flowers were symbols of rebirth. 

However, she supposed, that it was still part of the unknown long time grudge between her family and the citizens of Ardhalis- Her mother, Sophia Sinclair-White's funeral (years ago, she told herself, it hasn't been that short) told that otherwise. 

They were not welcome. They never were. 

She sighs as she silently started to braid her long red hair into two braids, golden eyes observing the nearest passerby. They always look at her in disgust, like a fly in a jar of honey. They say she looks a lot like her infamous grandmother, Lauren Sinclair-White, everything from her hair, eyes, and witty nature... 

And the ability to detect lies. 

This... "ability" is very peculiar. She knows that her mother was not exactly pleased before Sophia passed. 

Her father, Nicolai Marioano Sinclair-White (her only relative that is currently not deceased) was a ceramic artist, surrounded by clay and pots, barely being able to support them in their tiny home in Greychapel, and even that was lucky since they had a roof to be under in. Greychapel was known to be the cruelest place in Ardhalis. She walked down the porch, the floorboards creaking underneath her weight. Snatching the basket of food, she wore her red hood and started to walk in the directions of her father's studio which was located in the 11th precinct. 

When she entered the clearing, she immediately dodged a rock thrown by a child. 

"Hey! What are you doing huh peasant? What's that ugly red hood?" 

The child was none other than Ronald Wolverine McTrevor. Dahlia flinched as she scurried across, ignoring the multiple malicious gazes aimed specifically at her. 

_"Look, it's the Sinclair-White's girl..."_

_"What do you think she's doing here?"_

_"She doesn't have the right to even walk here."_

_"That red hood... how amusing, she'll be easy to kill."_

_"I bet 300$ that I can break her."_

_"Really?"_

_"Hold on... she's listening."_

_"We know that, but she can't do anything can she?"_

She tripped on a rock, leaving a thin trail of blood on her skin. Laughter erupted. 

_"Oh look, see? She tripped. She's bleeding. She's weak."_

_"Red suits her well- how about we add more to it by bashing in her skull?"_

_"Really? Our lives would be on the line wouldn't it.?"_

_"HAHA! It would be worth it though."_

She bit her lip. 

_She was weak._

_She was a disappointment to her family._

_Her name, Dahlia is supposed to mean elegance, bravery, and finding inner strength._

_Yet, she hasn't found herself._

_She was not elegant._

_She was a coward._

_And she felt like she was going to be pressed under a key._

_Like falling off a cliff._

_And never coming back up._

She would be Little Red Riding Hood, forever lost. 

She made it to the studio apartment. Her basket was safe, slightly hard bread sticking out underneath from the picnic cloth. Her favorite picnic cloth, gifted by her parents- a dahlia and daffodil flower ring adorning the white simple plaid cloth. 

A daffodil for new beginnings. 

_So that she could grow stronger everyday,_

Her mother said, a gleam present in her golden eyes. Her mother was smiling... 

It was her parting gift from this world. The last gift from both of her parents, specifically, her mother. 

Caressing the fabric with her slender bone-white fingers, she quietly knocked on the door. Her father had been distant lately, barely talking to her ever since her mother's death 5 years ago. She would only see him staring at daffodils, creating pots shaped like teardrops. He would use money on portraits of her mother, and Dahlia would end up having to cut off meal money for each month. 

There was still no answer. 

She knocked a little louder, hoping that her father would hear her. Waiting for the door to open, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She visibly flinched. Human contact was not exactly pleasant for Dahlia. 

She was met with the most striking brown eyes she had ever seen. 

"Excuse-moi mademoiselle? My name is Officer Tom... Is there anything wrong?" 

Dahlia quickly shook her head. 

"Non, Monsieur Tom. It's just that my father wouldn't answer the door." 

Officer Tom regards her with perplexed eyes and nods. 

"Are you sure your father is home?" 

Dahlia nodded. 

"He left a note that he was going to stay in the studio the other day." 

"Do you have a key?"

"Yes, but I always knock." 

"Can you try opening the door?" 

She paused. 

"Of course. Why are you helping me? You know who I am yes?" 

He blinked at her in surprise. 

" **I am not exactly aware of the rumors going on in Greychapel,** but you do seem fairly familiar to a missing officer from around 30 years ago..." 

He shakes his head. 

"Never mind, I wanted to help you because... a series of events have been happening here." 

Dahlia forms her mouth into an "o". 

"Events?" 

"Yes... Targeted... deaths." 

She gulped. 

"Around this area?" 

"Yes, especially this street."

Dahlia shivered. 

"Thank you." 

"No problem. Now try opening the door." 

She grabbed the key from her pocket belt, looped with a purple ribbon. Fumbling with the keys, she hastily opens the door. 

The apartment looked empty. There was no sound. 

"... Are you sure your father is really home Mademoiselle?" 

"... Yes." 

She stepped in, Officer Tom following after. 

"Father? Dad? Are you there? It's me, Dahlia." 

She looks around for the lights, stepping into the studio... 

And screams. 

Her father sits in a chair, staring at a canvas. In his hand was a single daffodil. 

What was terrifying was that he wasn't breathing. 

Blood was visible on the walls, the canvas smeared with red, orange, and yellow, forming one bloody daffodil. 

Yellow, Red, and Orange smear her vision as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

New beginnings? This was all too horrible.

"Miss are you- OH LORD, mademoiselle, are you okay? Calm down, the back-up will come soon... please breathe." 

She was breathing iraapidly. 

"Mademoiselle, I know you are in shock, but please tell me your name..." 

She can barely hear Officer Tom as her vision started spinning and dimming at the same time. 

"Dahlia... My name is Dahlia Sinclair-White." 

The last thing she saw before she passed out was the look of bewilderment on Officer Tom as she fell into the abyss. 

Dahlia was frozen. 

She now is truly lost, without a guardian angel. 

She was now truly alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how this posting schedule is going to look like... but happy first chapter release! 
> 
> I know, I know, I already killed a character but... too bad, it was part of my dream- it was inevitable. (┬┬﹏┬┬)
> 
> But... I hope you all liked it! ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜)
> 
> Thanks to people from the cave and Fandom Scythe for coming up with Ronald Wolverine McTriver and Marioano Sinclair-White's name.


	3. Missing Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I aM baCk On mY kInDlE HUZZAH. 
> 
> I ain't leaving my baby Dahlia.

"How old are you honey?" 

Dahlia and a female officer were seated in the infirmary, surrounded by a tranquil silence. It has been a few hours since she had found her father's body, which was now at the forensics department at the APD. Apparently, the 11th precinct found the death as important, hence, her location.

"I'm 15 years old. Turning 16 on the 21st, officer." 

The officer nods, and scribbles the information on her notepad. 

"Do you know if your father had any enemies?"

She shakes her head. Her father was a gentle man.

"Anybody suspcious?"

It was probably the 7th time this question came out, all withdifferent officers. Dahlia sighed and then spoke in a clear voice,

"Officer, I really do not know who could have possibly killed my father, when everyone in Greychapel had some sort of unknown motive to do so." 

The officer taps on her notepad, now absent mindly looking out the window.

"Dahlia Sinclair-White hm? Sinclair-White… where did I hear that before… Hm. For now, let me tell you this- the Greychapel rumors could never be trusted y'know? That area is still dark from the Scythe era, even when Soleil and Lune did their work, and frankly, it's a terrible place- we can't hear your assumptions because of that. Are you sure you don't know anyone?" 

She shakes her head, fiddling with the loose white ribbon on her wrist. 

"Okay. What do you know about your family?" 

Dahlia paused. 

_What **does** she know about her family?_

"Uhm… my mother is Sophia Sinclair-White and... you by now, know who my father is. My father comes from a family of artists, and I think he had lots of siblings. I think my mother was raised by her granduncle…" 

"Mother's parents? Any siblings?" 

"I don't know her father, but I do know that my grandmother was Lauren Sinclair-White: my mother talked about her past rarely, and even if she did, I would have been too young to remember."

"Anything about your grandparents' whereabouts?" 

Silence.

"No. I don't even know if they're alive." 

The officer bit her lip, probably in irritation. Dahlia was missing so many important information on her family, and that creates a difficult situation for the Investigation Unit because they cannot create any new leads. Not even the legendary Oliver March can. 

"Nothing?" 

"Nothing." 

She sighed. 

"Very well. We'll resume questioning tomorrow. Meanwhile, get ready to go to your staying home- the clothes are on the table by your bed. Make sure to be polite when the lady arrives." 

Dahlia nodded silently and the officer left the room. Once seeing that she was gone, Dahlia reached out to the table to assess her options. Upon her decision, she plucked off a creme colored blouse with a blue ribbon, a long brown skirt, and a pair of black shoes. 

She debated if she wanted her hair down, but decided against it, putting it up in a high but neat, bun. She grabbed her brown trenchcoat, and rushed to the entrance lobby of the APD, where the lady of her stay house was waiting. 

Ms. Desroses, the nice lady who had brought her water, was talking to someone in the corner of the room. Upon noticing Dahlia's arrival, she waves her hand to her, gesturing to come over.

"Ah, there she is! Dahlia come here! This is Lady Hawkes." 

"Lila! I told you, Lady Hawkes sounds too formal-"

"Okay, _Princess Kym_ , but that doesn't change the fact that you married the prince of the precinct-" 

"Hey!" 

Dahlia dashed, bunching her skirt in a hurry.

"Hi, sorry I'm late. My name is Dahlia..."

When Lady Hawkes came into view, she was met with a lady, probably in her late fifties, gaping at her with shocked brown eyes. 

_"Lauren…?_

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there reader! 
> 
> Thank you for taking a look at _Dancing Dahlia_! 
> 
> This is an experimental piece, that may or may not be deleted in the future. 
> 
> But as always, kudos, comments,and shares are extremely appreciated!
> 
> -Hadzy


End file.
